Hey sweetie, I still love you, if I set fire to your place you'll totally HAVE to take me back, right? I mean, that's just how much I love and need you; then you can come and live with me, I'll take care of you!

Not Cool Story time. I learned through a mutual friend that an ex-girlfriend of mine got married a number of years ago and a short while after the wedding someone broke into her husband's truck, took out their wedding photo album and then torched the photo album. I, of course, got blamed for this. The whole thing is ridiculous. For starters, why would they leave their photo album in the truck? After me she dated a police officer and who would be better able to track down someone's vehicle? A cop or someone who at the time worked in the commodities industry? Not only that, I was not aware that she was dating this new guy. Years ago she moved out of the neighborhood where we both lived and I have not seen her since. Oh well, I guess she is still bitter about when I outed her to her boss for breaking into my Livejournal account from a company computer and they fired her for it.

CSB: Many years ago an idiot neighbor of ours did this same thing. They lived together and she wanted him to move out, so before he did he set her couch on fire while she was not home.

Not so CSB: This was our neighbor across the hall in our apartment building. The moron risked the lives of multiple families just to piss off his girlfriend. The fire was put out in time to save the building, but all our clothes & furniture had pretty bad smoke damage.

He'll learn nothing from it but a load of surprisingly accurate advice on how to properly carry out more deadly revenge schemes from his fellow inmates, most of whom are there for displaying similarly poor judgment, especially toward the women in their own lives.

One time I waited outside a woman's house for five days just to show her how serious I was about wanting to drill her. Turns out, it was the wrong house. She loved the story anyway. We got to third base. Over the pants.

m1ke:One time I waited outside a woman's house for five days just to show her how serious I was about wanting to drill her. Turns out, it was the wrong house. She loved the story anyway. We got to third base. Over the pants.

Over the pants is not third base. That is getting tagged out by the third baseman.